


Every Angel Has His Demon

by Zodiac



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Biting, Blood, Cannibalism, Death, Drabble, Gore, M/M, Masochism, No sane person should read this, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sadism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zodiac/pseuds/Zodiac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is best to not keep a beast locked up for too long without letting it roam freely at least once. No one knows when it may break loose or what it may do when it does...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Angel Has His Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Looking back at this, I'm not sure what I had to have been on to write this. This was a request from one of my friends to combine both intimate acts, like kissing and nipping, with actual cannibal Sanae Hanekoma. The only way I could think of to do that would be having his Panthera Cantus side go a wee bit out of control, which gave me this bloody, gory mess.

Crimson-stained lips smashed against smaller, paler ones, smothering them in the coppery taste of their owner’s blood as a greedy tongue sought entrance to the Composer’s moist cavern. Growling upon being denied entry, a hand reached up to the teen’s shoulder and burrowed into the gaping bite wound there, little claws digging into and ripping at sensitive flesh. The blonde let out a whimpered moan and the slick muscle slithered its way into the passage, allowing him to taste more of his own blood even as the nails continued tearing at delicate tendons and muscles. Once the attacker decided to move on, he pulled away from the plump lips, licking his own from the sweet taste of his prey.

The beast that now controlled the body of Sanae Hanekoma stared down at the hapless Composer that had pushed his host a tad too much, a bit too far past his breaking point. This foolish little Joshua had pushed the barista into a seemingly-endless loop of pain and misery, both emotionally and physically torturing him until the normally calm man had finally snapped, willingly relinquishing control to the lion hiding within.

And, oh, how he was enjoying his time out.

The feral Angel had already bitten off a sizable chunk of the younger’s shoulder, hardly paying any mind to the fact that this body would probably disagree with it before gulping it down. Numerous other, smaller, bite marks littered the blonde’s upper shoulders and neck, each drawing blood to appease the beast’s hunger. However, that rabid thirst for blood, for mutilation, was impossible to sate.

Moving his head to a side and leaning in close again, the primal Producer began trailing little pecks along the porcelain cheeks, every kiss making the feline fangs dig into the skin slightly. By the time the lion had gotten past the other’s jaw, it seemed as though the teen was crying tears of blood, droplets of the ruby red liquid flowing down the pale cheek.

Next, the Composer’s neck received the same treatment, now squirming half out of pain, half of pleasure at the blood being drained from his small form. “A bit rougher than usual today, aren’t you, beast?” The teen squeaked out softly, more aroused than concerned with the unusually harsh behavior. He thought that the host within would prevent the lion from harming his seemingly-frail form too badly.

He thought wrong.

Even immortals could only go through so much before snapping, and the Angel tormenting his body had just hit his breaking point. The beast shoved his prey to the floor, pressing roughly against his shoulders to pin him there, just as he would do during previous sessions. That done, he scrambled on top of him, legs on either side of the narrow hips.

“Mmm, as divinely delicious as ever, Composer.” The beast practically moaned out, lapping at sweat-slick flesh, steadily inching lower and lower as he licked at the flesh.

A lilting chuckle pealed out from the bitten and bloodied neck, its owner far too amused with his partner’s antics. A small hand gracefully lifted up to scratch at the barista’s hair. “Well, you are what you ea-” His recital of the well-known phrase was cut off as a strangled gurgle bubbled up in place of the words. Amethyst eyes, nearly completely closed from the sudden pain, managed to stay open enough to look at what the feral creature had just done. What he saw sent a shiver down even his spine; whether it was from fear or pleasure was unknown at this point.

The Noise-controlled man currently held a mass of bloodied flesh in his hand, still yanking it free from its connections within the Composer’s chest cavity, the other braced against the right pectoral to aid in its removal. It was finally ripped free with the wet, squishy sound of flesh being torn asunder, the precious, life-giving tubes flopping down, gushing the liquid they were previously pumping.

The blood-crazed Producer gave the quickly-dieing blonde a chesire’s grin, corners of lips practically twitching up to his ears as he surveyed the gaping hole he had punched straight through the teen’s ribcage, able to see his lungs fluttering feebly with his final breaths. A feline’s tongue darted out to run a trail up his own wrist, following one of the many paths the blood covering it took as the still-beating heart in his grasp continued pushing out its reserves.

“You are what you eat, hm?” The animal echoed, running his tongue along a pounding ventricle now. He smirked against the still-warm flesh, feeling the steady thrum of the organ against his lips. “Let’s just hope I don’t become you then.”

And so, the last thing the Composer witnessed before losing himself to the sweet embrace of nothingness was a sinful devil in the guise of the purest Angel feasting upon his heart.


End file.
